


Captive Prince Week 2016

by itallstartedwithharry



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Canonical Child Abuse, Character Death, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 16:58:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7853482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itallstartedwithharry/pseuds/itallstartedwithharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oneshots written for Captive Prince week prompts</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for this fandom! I've only read the series once, but I really love the characters :) The warnings are listed as a precaution, as my writing may touch on some of the darker themes of the series. I will list this by chapter.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Memories

“Do you ever think about that night?” 

Damen’s question interrupted the quiet peace between him and his lover as they relaxed on the silk bedsheets.

“Of course.” Laurent’s answer was immediate and his tone semi-insulted. “One does not forget such a life-changing bedding.”

The lit candles betrayed the flush on his cheeks however, and Damen grinned as he rolled over to look the other man in the eye. 

“A life-changing bedding? You flatter me, my prince.” The two shared a sweet kiss before Damen cupped Laurent’s cheek lovingly. “It was for me as well,” he admitted. “Though I admit the night plagued me for some time afterwards.” He shook his head quickly as a look of hurt came over Laurent’s face. “Only for wanting to do more…I-it was so much more than adequate. I should not have said that.”

It was Laurent’s turn to silence his lover with a finger to his lips, which Damen kissed before nodding his acquiescence. 

“Damen. What you gave me that night was-“ He cleared his throat, caught in the emotion of remembrance. Even with how long the two had been intimate, Laurent had the tendency to put up walls protecting his vulnerability. “You gave me the freedom and control to experience pleasure in a way I never had before. It felt real, as though you were not wearing my collar.”

“It was real far before the collar was removed, my love.”

Silently, the two lifted their wrists which bore the cuffs associated with pleasure slaves and pets. Though slavery would be outlawed under their joint rule, the meaning of their adornments would remain important to their relationship. 

Conversation yielded to kisses and petting, Damen pausing with their foreheads together and breath in sync.

“I’ll never forget the first time I saw you lose yourself in pleasure.” He mused, tucking a strand of thin golden hair behind Laurent’s ear. “You are so beautiful.”

Laurent’s hand pinched a nipple, smirking at the intake of breath he inspired, before moving his hand slowly lower. He traced Damen’s abs reverently, fingers teasing near the man’s growing interest. But the moment froze when his pinkie hit a divot, a strip of scar tissue wrapped around from his back.

“No.” Damen took both Laurent’s hands in his own, dark eyes staring into light. “Not tonight. Only happy memories. Let us relive the joy of that first time, my love.”

Blinking away tears, Laurent nodded.

As the men made love in the dim glow of candlelight, it was the moments of joy from their past, not fear or hate, that brought them together. After gasping in pleasure the kings-to-be fell asleep intertwined; deeply in love no matter what challenges the past or the future would bring.


	2. Remembrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Scars/Laurels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for book 2. Warnings for character death and references to child abuse.

It was a peaceful day at Fort Ravenel, sunlight peaking around thin clouds and a gentle breeze blowing wisps of Laurent’s hair. He was standing on the tower battlement, his lover a silent presence behind him.

Damen had seen Nicaise as a slave at first - understandable considering the circumstances of their introduction. But the poor boy had been more than that…trapped in a cycle from the beginning from which there was little chance of escaping alive. In his weaker moments Laurent had dared imagine him as a younger brother. Foolish, considering the fate of his blood brother.

_“You know, Nicaise really thought you would help him.”_

He despised the fact that his uncle’s voice still echoed in his mind as it did in the hall during his trial, if one could have called it that. Even the cruelty of his own words haunted him, despite them being necessary at the time. If Laurent had not put every effort into remaining calm he would have collapsed under the pressure, and been killed for the privilege. 

His fists clenched and he drew deep breaths, shaking his head in an effort to reign in the painful sorrow and guilt. If everything had been different, Nicaise would have been a close confidant throughout Laurent’s reign. Given time, they could have helped each other with the trauma of their past. With his sharp wit and keen eye, Laurent would have valued his opinion. They could have been friends in truth.

“It is not your fault, my love.”

Damen’s voice was gentle; his words generous.

Nicaise had been so young, never allowed the grace of age and maturation. All because Laurent had not bothered to make him a priority. He had let him be…left him to die.

“That may be the case in your mind,” Laurent’s voice was shakier than he would have liked. “However there are some things one can’t simply - forget.” 

The image flashed unbidden before him, grayish skin with a disfigured, jagged edge. The foul smell coming from the stained bag. Worst of all were the pearls left in his hair, a shadow of the bright boy ripped away from life. Laurent wondered if Nicaise had thought of him before he died, if he had felt hatred or love before everything was severed.

“What you saw and what you had to say,” Damen sighed, “they are but scars. They will be with you forever, but they cannot and will not break you.”

After one last deep breath and survey of the horizon, Laurent turned to Damen and held out his hands, nodding in thanks for the wreath. The laurel was decorated with a string of pearls and tiny sapphires, twinkling in the light. He brushed a hand over a block of solid white stone and its simple engraving.

_Nicaise  
Brother and Friend to the King_

“In celebration of our triumph, brother,” Laurent murmured, placing the laurel on the stone. “I’m sorry I could not do more.”

Stepping back, he watched as Damen knelt and murmured his own blessing. The two embraced, and Laurent finally let himself cry, safe in the arms of his lover.


	3. Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter approaches the book's slavery (though with a more D/s vibe) and abuse.

The friendship between Laurent and Erasmus was unexpected, slow to develop, and held dear by both men. If you asked either Damen or Torveld, the depth of their relationship was puzzling, but neither had any complaints about their lover being happy. In fact, it was Damen’s opinion that their friendship was a factor in the the closer alliance of their kingdom with Patras.

By now, Damen knew to stay clear when Laurent was engrossed at his writing desk, else suffer his husband’s coldest glare. Sealed letters arrived regularly from Torveld’s estate, and Laurent gave all servants strict instructions to allow no eyes but his to view them. Whenever the pair visited their court, Laurent and Erasmus always had a private dinner in addition to gatherings of the four of them.

The golden-brown boy was attractive to both kings, and they had often teased each other with fantasies of him joining them in bed. Little did Damen know, that particular scene was much closer to becoming reality than he could have imagined. 

Erasmus was gentle, cautious, and naturally submissive. Such a soul could easily be abused, and he had been under the Regent. The three burn marks on his smooth thighs were proof of that. It had taken some time to repair his desire to serve. He no longer knelt out of fear, but in joyous humility. He still needed to follow, needed someone to worship, but he now felt safe and secure in Torveld’s care. Beyond that, Torveld had encouraged the boy’s confidence. His reaction to praise was breathtaking, blossoming under his new Master’s attention. It went beyond the art taught to Akielon palace and bed slaves, or so Damen had remarked.

Laurent’s journey from abused child Prince to married King had changed him in more ways he could count. But sexually, Laurent could never have predicted this evolution. The ‘cast iron bitch’ loved to release his control in the bedchamber, and felt joy at being mounted by his ‘barbarian’ husband. It had been his secret, until Erasmus re-entered their lives. 

*

Erasmus never thought he’d be grateful for the cruelty he experienced in Vere. But if it took withstanding a branding to meet his Master, he would gladly go through it again. Once Erasmus had thought a kind Master cared about their slave’s pleasure, but Torveld outshone all his fantasies.

He remembered being manhandled by the Vere courtiers, the fear of the flaming stick near his skin, hot enough to melt flesh. 

But Torveld had stood up for him, without even witnessing his training. The first touch of his Master’s hand on his head was a breath of fresh air, worshipping Torveld’s feet centered his world, and that first night…he was terrified. That night was his only chance to prove he was a worthy slave, the only possibility of escape. But instead Master Torveld had held him until he was asleep, and allowed Erasmus to serve him lunch during the next day’s hunt.

The first several interactions he had with Laurent were on uneven ground. Erasmus could do nothing but sing the Prince’s praises and beg for an opportunity to thank him. It took Laurent confiding in him for the first time to break the ice.

Erasmus was speaking with flushed excitement how he could serve Torveld in every way imaginable while still pursuing music.

“When he compliments me and notes my improvement,” his eyes were dreamy as they always were when speaking of Torveld. “It is the most magnificent feeling.”

“I feel the same,” Laurent had murmured, “when I give Damen pleasure.”

The mood in the room had frozen, neither keen to break the tension, before Laurent cleared his throat, pleading silently for the conversation to continue.

And it did. They spoke of honor, and how their respective cultures differed on certain aspects of life. They spoke of love, and how slavery had brought them both to their partners. Erasmus said that by belonging to Torveld he was complete in his sacred duty, and his Master felt the same, giving the same level of respect in return. Laurent mostly nodded at first, offering the occasional shy smile. It wasn’t until several meetings later that tentative questions came from Laurent, asking if it was right to feel or think a certain way in the bedchamber. Their cheeks were bright red at first, but nervous laughter soon gave way to a true and honest connection.

“Can you teach me?” Laurent asked one evening. “Some of…what you use? With Torveld, I mean.”

Bashful, Erasmus looked up through his eyelashes (one of the things Laurent wished to learn) and smiled.

“You’d be surprised at how much you already know, my Prince. But I would be happy to share my training with you.”

*

It was the court’s best-kept secret, the reason behind Prince Laurent and the slave Erasmus being friends. Someday, when Laurent was ready, they would let Damen and Torveld into the mystery. It was unspoken that the four of them would find an intimate way to explore what the two had learned from each other. But until then, Laurent was more than happy to meet any rumors and questions with a raised eyebrow. What he practiced alone in the bedchamber would stay there. (And if he snuck the occasional hint into his lovemaking with Damen, no one needed to be the wiser).


	4. Getaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Summer in Ios

Ios was stunning, Laurent had to admit that. After the joining of their kingdoms he and Damen had preceded to tour from city to city, introducing the people to their new rulers. They had started in Arles, anticipating awkwardness if people recognized Damen as a former pet, and traveled south to end in Ios. Now they would spend an extra week here, just for the two of them, without any obligation to court or royalty.

The city felt clean and peaceful, with everything from the palace to the poorer homes in shining white. Laurent had gone on a long cliff walk with his husband the previous day, enjoying each others company while Damen spoke of stories from his youth. According to him, summer was the best season to be in Ios.

“See, look there!” He had exclaimed after practically every turn, “see the Gulf of Atros, the way the sun touches off the waves.” When they stopped for rest he laid on his back to look at the sky. “The sky is beautiful today,” he would sigh, “I love the warming of the sun with the cool breeze off the water.”

Laurent was wearing the aftermath of that sun today, much to his dismay. His flawless, fair skin was colored a pinkish red and was sore to the touch. Damen made up for the burn slightly by massaging him with a cool balm, but Laurent had elected to wear a hat for today’s adventure. Currently, he was perched on a boulder underneath a thin tree, waiting for his husband. He was wearing a pale blue tunic in the most modest of Akielon styles with a wide-brimmed fabric hat. He had rolled his eyes at the dresser’s quiet protest at the woman’s style hat; after all commoners’ opinions of his wardrobe were far beneath his concern.

And speaking of wardrobe…Laurent stood up as Damen approached from the palace. His white tunic displayed a great deal of glowing bronze skin, and his dark eyes lit up upon seeing Laurent.

“My love!” Damen exclaimed, “I hope you were not waiting too long.”

Laurent met him with a smiling kiss. “Not at all, husband. What journey have you prepared for us today?”

“The Island of Isthima,” Damen took his hand and they started toward the sea. “I took many trips there as a child.”

“Then lead on.”

*

They took a small boat across the gulf and were greeted on the beach by a flock of servants, plying them with sweet, cool wine and fruits. Laughing, Damen accepted the goods before waving them off. The two men sat in the warm sand, feeding each other and admiring the scenery. They explored the area, Laurent scanning the shoreline for shells while Damen strolled alongside the dunes.

Laurent started from where he was bent over a tidal pool when he felt his hat being swept off and something else placed on his head. Damen caught his hand before he could dislodge it. 

“I believe a king deserves a crown,” he teased. “The orchids look marvelous against your hair.” 

“I would make a crown of shells for you my love, but alas, I do not have the materials.”

Damen still exclaimed over Laurent’s findings, putting them in an empty wine pitcher for safekeeping.

“Shall we go swimming, my love? Perhaps you will find more shells to decorate our palace.” He had hardly finished the question when he began to remove his tunic, letting the fabric slip to the ground. He stretched his body and looked over his shoulder at his husband, who was transfixed by the sight. “Am I to swim alone?”

After looking nervously around, though Damen would never risk his husband’s honor, Laurent hurriedly removed his own tunic and ran to catch up.

Looking back again, Damen’s jaw dropped open in awe. Running across the sand, strands of golden hair whipped across Laurent’s face and around the crown of flowers on his brow. His arms and legs looked rosy pink, and his soft, pale cock bounced gently against his thighs. He looked like a god whose statue should grace every temple in the land. 

So he yelped in a very un-kingly manner when Laurent jumped in the water with a laugh, soaking Damen and knocking him off-balance. Sputtering, Damen surfaced and proceeded to tackle his husband under the waves. The two laughed, splashed, and wrestled as the remnants of the flower crown floated among them. Their playing around eventually led to heavy kissing, bodies rubbing together as the cool water splashed around them. Damen leaned forward to bite at Laurent’s neck as Laurent massaged Damen’s ass. Their moans blended with the sounds of the ocean, and each kiss had a bite of salt. Friction was limited from the water, so when Damen grasped both their cocks and began to stroke, Laurent let out a frustrated whine.

“Fuck me. Please?” He breathed into Damen’s ear, hips jumping forward into the firm grip.

Nodding with a grunt, Damen released them (both of them groaned) and pulled Laurent to shore. They blushed and laughed upon trying to put tunics over their wet bodies and hard cocks, but Damen assured him they could reach his family’s island home without being seen. Each holding a pitcher of seashells in front of them, just in case the two kings awkwardly ran off the beach. 

The next morning servants found the kings sleeping on the chaise lounge while the silk sheets of the bed were soaked through. Both Damen and Laurent blushed furiously through the servants’ apologies that the accommodations were not acceptable for the kings, and after that day made sure to always use towels after any water-related sex activities.


	5. Decree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dispute

Akielos had a long history of a slave culture. It was a sense of pride and a show of status for the royalty and nobles to have as many slaves as they could afford. Damen never questioned the practice, having been surrounded by slaves his entire upbringing. He always cared for his personal slaves, and held their training in high regard. Choice was never an issue, and the very concept of abolishing slavery never crossed the prince’s mind. Slaves gave up their free will, but in return received perfect treatment. It was a fair life for those of a lower rank, especially those that got to live in the palace. And it meant men or women of Damen’s birth never had to enter a brothel - they were unnecessary when one could make use of a beautiful slave. 

His capture and enslavement were horrifying, though he could draw no connection to the practices of his homeland. His heart broke upon learning his personal slaves and servants had been killed, and further when he observed the cruel treatment of the slaves brought to Vere alongside him. In the beginning, when he was still a prisoner under Laurent, the Prince of Vere made clear his disgust for slavery, and how barbaric Akielos was for the custom. “Training the will out of a man,” he had called it, sneering at Damen’s show of supposedly false compassion. 

But Damen felt the skin on his back twinge, saw the burns on Erasmus, and witnessed the violence in the ring. Surely it was the people of Vere that were the compassionless, cruel species, not his own.

He wore his bonds with fierce denial, giving none of himself to Laurent. This was not slavery. This was imprisonment.

“So you enjoy slavery in others. Just not yourself.”

The words stung more than they should. After all he was not a slave; he was a prince and heir to a throne. There was nothing inherently wrong with making use of a slave’s training as long as they were well-treated. No one could expect Damen to enjoy any aspect of being forced to serve Laurent. There was a difference.

“Damianos will end slavery when he becomes King.” The words came out without a second thought, though he could not pinpoint when he changed his mind on such an accepted aspect of his culture. To his credit, Laurent did not react to Damen’s bold declaration, though it was often difficult to say whether he was affected. The subject was never brought up again, despite the fact that Laurent could easily have used Damen’s words against him. 

And now…he looked down at the scroll, waiting innocently on the desk for his and his husband’s seals.

**By Decree of the Kings Damianos and Laurent of the United Realm of Akielos and Vere. Henceforth from this day the practice of slavery is forbidden, punishable by imprisonment or death of the master. Those who serve must do so of their own free will, and must be paid or recompensed as servants. All those who currently serve as slaves, including those of the palace, are from this day free men, by order of the Kings.**

“What are you thinking?” Lauren’s calm voice was soothing as he draped himself over Damen’s shoulders. “Not having second thoughts, are we?”

“No, of course not,” Damen sighed. This was no simple decree; the dispute had been heated among the court advisors and nobles who caught wind of the change. Not that anyone had the power to outright deny an act by the two kings, but keeping the peace was still crucial. Neither of them could truly predict the fallout of ending slavery. The turnover in the palace might be simple, but enforcing this decree across the realm would be difficult at best. Laurent admitted that there might even be pushback from the slaves themselves, having known nothing else.

Tugging gently, Laurent brought Damen to standing, staring into his eyes. “Damianos, my love. We are changing for the better, and history will remember us.”

“Yes, but will our songs be those of peace or chaos?” Damen joked, though the fear hiding in his eyes betrayed him.

Smiling, Laurent leaned forward for a chaste kiss. “That is out of our hands, my husband. All we can do is move our kingdom forward as best we can.” With that, he leaned over the desk and busied himself with dripping blue wax on the bottom of the paper.

Damen took a breath and reached over to hold the red wax by the candle, letting it fall next to the blue. At Laurent’s gesture he picked up their duel seal, pressing it so the wax blended to a purple. For the final touch each of them signed their titles in ink before stepping back and embracing.

Slavery was ended.


	6. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Secrets/Revelations (my title wasn't creative)

Just over two weeks had passed since Torveld and Erasmus arrived in the kingdom of Patras, and it had been surprisingly easy for Erasmus to settle into his new role. After the chaos and confusion of his transportation and treatment in Vere, the return to a familiar setting was a relief. Though Erasmus had never graced the palace of Akielos, a thought which still pained him, he had been groomed for royalty. The Ambassador’s estate was perfectly suited to his training, and closer to the future he had dreamt for himself than he thought possible.

His new Master had been kind enough to present him a side room attached to his own bedroom, likely out of consideration for his treatment in Vere. Erasmus had a wide bed with soft, thin sheets, a silver wash basin, and a closet of bright tunics all to himself. But the greatest aspect of his new life was how well his training served him with a kind Master. His daily tasks included attending to Torveld’s clothing and daily preparations, serving him at mealtimes, and being present throughout the day depending on his schedule. Erasmus tried to perform for him at meals, but found his singing to be slightly rusty. At first he thought his voice had been stolen in Vere, but with Torveld’s encouragement he was re-gaining his confidence. Thrice now he had the honor of massaging Torveld after a long day’s work, though his Master had yet to call for him to attend a bath.

Erasmus’ etiquette and training impressed anyone who observed him, and Torveld never missed a moment to shower him with praise. It made Erasmus recall his discussions with Kallias, those nights blushing with excitement as he described his responsiveness to orders. That tendency had not been beaten out of him; his desire to please was stronger than ever and Torveld was fond of admiring the “beautiful glow” that overcame him while serving.

Erasmus wondered if Torveld knew that he had begun to think of him with the slave’s honorific common in his homeland. _Torveld-exaulted_.

He was happy, he was cared for, he was needed. And yet.

He remembered the innocent overexcitement as he prostrated himself before a common soldier, beyond ready for his training silks. When First Night was a beautiful event in his future, set in stone by the treasured lion pin on his shoulder. When he wasn’t ruined, in more ways than one. Now those memories haunted him, threatening to disrupt his newfound peace.

One night Erasmus woke from a fitful sleep to the tired, concerned face of Torveld hovering over him, one hand tentatively reaching for his cheek. 

“What torments you, my angel?” After pausing to ensure he wasn’t too troubled, Torveld perched himself on the end of the bed. “Please, tell me. I wish nothing but happiness for you here.” He gave a small smile as he gently brushed a thumb over Erasmus’ hand. “You may say whatever you wish.”

“Master,” Erasmus breathed, feeling his heart rate stutter. “Did I wake you? I apologize for being disruptive-”

“Erasmus.” The way Torveld said his name was reverent, far more generous than most slaves would expect. “Please. I want nothing more than for you to speak your mind, if it would help you.”

“I was merely thinking of my past, Master Torveld,” Erasmus sighed. “My pin, the First Night…training to be fit for the Prince in mind and body. I was ready for everything.”

“Did you ever resent it?” Torveld wondered aloud after a moment. “I have seen you in the library and your personal tastes do not seem in line with those of the Prince.”

“I always had room in my mind for poems of romance,” Erasmus smiled, “even if I did not have anyone to recite the verses to.” Their eyes met in pointed silence, though Erasmus was quick to look away as shyness took over.

“So what is this First Night? And the pin?” Torveld aimed to keep his tone casual, but his soft eyes shone with eagerness to learn more about his boy.

“To wear the pin means to be part of the Royal household; to be presented to the Royal bed. ” Erasmus looked away in shame as his entire body gave a shudder. How his body could still desire that after everything…but no. He would not let those beasts sully this moment. “To wear the pin is a great responsibility and challenge. Our training requires perfection, and in return we receive beautiful rooms, pristine treatment, and the honor of serving the greatest among us.” 

At Torveld’s impressed nod Erasmus couldn’t help a slight lift of his chin “It was more difficult for the male gardens to produce a slave with a pin…I was very proud.”

“And you…enjoyed your training?” Torveld asked.

“Yes.” Torveld’s voice was quiet but strong. “I discovered how much the training suited me early on, both mental and physical. I longed for the ache, for the denial, as proof of waiting for my Prince. I wanted to obey more than anything, even beyond touching or having pleasure. When the Prince was to see me presented, I would be untouched.” His voice cracked and he hurried onward to cover his momentary slip. “I was never meant to be the Prince’s only of course, no slave is. But for my First Night I would be…and that was what I yearned for. And-and I would be trained so that when my Master had need of me I would be able to serve in any way he desired.”

The heat building inside of him came to the surface, and Erasmus pulled his legs to his chest with a gasp.

“Oh Gods. Master I must-I must stop. I am so sorry, please accept my-“

“No, please.” Torveld’s voice was deep. “My beauty, I wish you to tell me everything and anything about your life.”

“Even if-“

“Especially if it involves the prince,” Torveld shifted to keep a comfortable distance between them.

“I thought about my First Night and what it might feel like so many times.” He felt his hands trembling. “Him-the Prince entering me, my body restrained for him-oh please!” Erasmus jumped from the bed and ran to face the corner, body shaking and face staring dead ahead to avoid seeing his hard shame tenting his tunic. He prayed silently that Torveld would not follow, and thankfully the man must have sensed his anxiety and stayed still. 

There were several moments of silence, broken only with Erasmus’ shaky breathing and the occasional sound from Torveld.

“Why?” Erasmus whispered to the wall, unsure if he was speaking to his Master or himself. 

“It is a night of revelation.” Torveld stated before sighing. “My Erasmus, I only wish you happiness in your home here. I believed I was helping you, with our arrangement. But it is abundantly clear that is not the case. I will tell you anything you wish about me or my life. And I truly desire to know of your past, the bad and good, if you will have me as Master.”

“My heart and body betrayed my training.” Erasmus was calmer now that he dwelled on his failure. “It was to be my companions’ First Night, yet he confessed he would have me before his Prince.” Even now, beyond control of Akielos or Vere, he put a quivering hand to his face. “Treasonous thoughts, and I considered them.” His head shot up. “But we did not do the forbidden! Kallias was stronger than I, and went to his First Night pure.”

“And?” Torveld murmured.

“When he returned, his strong face was even finer in paint, his jaw emphasized and eyelashes darkened. His neck bore the collar regally.” Erasmus was somber. “He kissed me, though it was barred for slaves-in-training. He kissed me,” his voice broke, “and ripped away my purity, pin, and pride. I was saving everything for my Prince, including my first kiss, and instead I received pain and betrayal.”

“I was tainted.” The word seemed to echo in the room. Torveld made to rise but Erasmus shook his head, desperate now to bare himself. 

“Then they preceded to destroy everything I had left. All my desires and goals were made worthless.” He gestured to his tunic. “My slave silks were what I had worked for my entire life,” his eyes burned with unshed tears and he hated himself for it. “My new gold collar was a burden instead of a burning reminder of ownership.”

Erasmus’ hand fluttered to his neck before returning it stiffly to his side. “Of course, I later discovered the Prince’s men were killed.” His words trailed off. “Kallias saved me…and I never got the chance to thank him.”

“I can only hope,” Torveld said tentatively, “that you see him again. I can try to arrange a meeting if it would bring you happiness.”

Erasmus turned to face his Master with a gentle smile. “I would like that Master. Perhaps if…when the Prince takes his rightful throne we will get a chance to visit the court?”

“Such a wise boy I have,” Torveld gestured Erasmus to come closer. “I shall make it happen, I swear it.”

Erasmus ducked his head in thanks, shuffling his bare feet.

“I shall leave you to sleep, if you wish.” He stood up, “I hope your mind is more at ease.” Torveld headed for the door as his slave slipped back into bed. “Erasmus?” 

“Yes, Master?” The tension between the two men was palpable, though not unpleasant. 

“Please don’t take my caution as insult.” For once the man looked awkward, unsure of which words to say and afraid of choosing poorly. “I admit that what you’ve been through unnerves me; I do not wish to be a source of pain.” Erasmus made to speak but Torveld cut him off with a shake of his head. “It is cruel, that what gave you joy was turned against you. But should you desire it,” he took a breath, “I would have you serve in any way you wish. Only in the way you wish.” The last part was emphasized.

Kneeling up on the bed in a way that set Torveld’s heart racing, Erasmus spoke softly but sure of himself. 

“I would want nothing more Master, then for you to own me in every way.”

“Then, my dear Erasmus,” Torveld smiled, “you shall have your First Night.”

A immense wave of relief and anticipation flooded Erasmus, and he bowed his head. The motion did nothing to hide the smile of pure joy on his face.

“Thank you, Master.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I will be writing their First Night <3


End file.
